


Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time

by asinglesheepisashoop (booli)



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Bonding, Gen, Humor, but it slowly turns into the Hunger Games, i just want the Feanorians to be happy, they're all chaotic, yes even nerdanel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26157784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booli/pseuds/asinglesheepisashoop
Summary: Maedhros wastes absolutely no time shoving Celegorm face-first to the floor. Celegorm cranes his neck to look back at his brother. He’s a goner, and he knows it. “Nelyo, come on, you don’t have to do this,” he tries to reason.Maedhros laughs icily, “Don’t have to what? Finish you off right now? Fat chance,” he mimics Celegorm’s words from a few moments ago.There’s a tense silence in the air, punctuated by their heavy breathing, before Maedhros whispers remorsefully, “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Tyelko.”Or: The Ambarussar propose a game of Manhunt. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Curufin | Curufinwë, Celegorm | Turcafinwë & Sons of Fëanor, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Comments: 19
Kudos: 60





	Don't Threaten Me with a Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello. This was really self-indulgent and the idea of the Fëanorians having a little bonding time was so wholesome, I needed to write it down (them being dramatic just wrote itself tbh, can you imagine any of them actually being calm!)
> 
> That was before it turned into a nightmare of constantly changing the tenses I wanted to use because I couldn't decide which one fit the aesthetic better lol.
> 
> The title's from the song of the same name by P!ATD. It was pretty much the theme song for me as I wrote this.
> 
> Anyway, I promised myself to finish this, so here it is. I hope you enjoy it!

Celegorm thinks any kind of silence in his family’s household should be a warning sign, even more so if it’s during the summer.

It’s a pleasant Sunday night, about as pleasant as it could get in the sweltering July heat. The entire family is lounging in the living room after having had a huge dinner and a peaceful quiet settles over them. Distantly, Celegorm can hear Maedhros and Curufin’s voices drift out of the kitchen as they do the dishes, though he’s quite sure Maedhros is probably doing most of the work while Curufin sits on the countertops and expertly handles the talking.

A lazy smile makes its way onto Celegorm’s face as he cosies up against Caranthir – on his phone – on the couch (he whacks Caranthir’s arm when the other makes a sound of protest), and takes in the sight of his family.

His parents are working on their laptops, a small frown wrinkling his father’s forehead. Celegorm supposes it would be near impossible for the two of them to get any kind of break, especially not when his father has had to inherit the booming family business after his grandfather had passed away a few months ago.

Feeling a little sorry for his parents, he looks to where Maglor is curled up on an armchair, earphones in and head bobbing along to whatever has caught his fancy these days.

Celegorm stares at his brother unseeingly for a while before his gaze finally settles on the twins seated on the floor.

To his surprise, he finds Amrod already looking at him while Amras’ beady eyes dart about the room like a hawk looking for its prey.

He sits up straight, suddenly alert. His sense of foreboding is back with twice the intensity. Nothing good has ever come from the twins’ plans, he thinks, as he remembers the time they’d wanted to be artists and had chosen the pristine walls of his and Curufin’s shared room as their blank canvas. Or the time they’d snipped chunks off of Maedhros’ long hair as he’d napped in the living room after a long day at college. They’d only barely survived _that_ one because Maedhros had cultivated nearly God-like levels of patience from having babysat his other brothers, and also because he’d had a soft spot in his heart for the two youngest.

(However, Celegorm knows that Maedhros had teared up a bit when Nerdanel had trimmed his hair to fix the mess, but you didn’t hear it from him)

He winces at the memories.

As he’s about to question the twin terrors’ motives, they stand up suddenly. Amras claps his hands, getting everybody’s attention. Amrod runs to the kitchen to fetch Curufin and Maedhros, and sits them down on the couch beside Caranthir. With all the commotion, everyone is now looking up at the twins with varying expressions of surprise, annoyance and mild worry.

“Alright, family,” Amrod addresses everyone. “We’ve gathered you all tonight for one purpose.”

Amras continues, “It’s summer break, but what with Mom and Dad having to constantly work, and you guys either being actually busy or simply pretending as an excuse to get out of our designated Fun Sibling Time, we’ve not spent a lot of time together. If Telvo and I are being honest, we feel a bit left out.”

“Oh my darlings, we’re so sorry about that,” Nerdanel says, sounding apologetic. “Do you have something in mind?”

Amrod beams at her, “ _Excellent_ question Mother dearest! We do actually have something planned. Pityo! Get the box.”

Amras leaves the room with a _be right back_ thrown in their direction and Amrod waits in the middle of the living room with an excited smile on his face.

Celegorm feels a bit sorry for his youngest brothers. He knows he has weaselled his way out of spending time with the twins more than once in favour of getting some alone-time for himself – a rarity in a household of nine people – but he was still a bit guarded. He could never be _too_ careful, considering the shenanigans that took place on the daily.

Moments later, Amras rushes back in, a cardboard box in hand, and joins Amrod in the centre of the room.

Amrod begins, “Lady and gentle-”

“Boo, nobody cares,” Caranthir interrupts.

“Carnistir, don’t be rude to your brothers,” Nerdanel scolds, as Maedhros clamps his hand over Caranthir’s mouth. Caranthir rolls his eyes but doesn’t fight back.

The twins glare at him, and Amrod starts once more, an angry flush rising to his cheeks, “Lady and gentlemen – and the Grinch, apparently – let’s play a little game of Manhunt. In this box, we have papers with everyone’s names on them that we’ll be taping to your backs.

“The rules are simple – try to take everyone else’s nametags off, but keep your own on. You can hide anywhere you want in this house, but you can’t just stay in one place till the game ends, that isn’t fair. You’re allowed to make alliances, but only the last man standing wins.”

“What do we get if we win?” Fëanor asks, regarding his youngest sons with curiosity.

“Our love,” Amras says.

“Hard pass,” Curufin dissents from where he’s seated.

The twins look slightly murderous, and before an outright civil war can break out, Nerdanel quickly intercepts. Putting her hands on her hips, she says, “Alright boys, we’ll play your game. Náro, honey, I’m sure you could use a break for a few hours. Nobody will know you’re gone. As for you all,” she looks over at her other sons with hope, “You don’t mind playing along with us for a while, do you?”

Celegorm, watching the entire episode unfold in pensive silence, surprises everyone including himself by speaking up first, “Sure, it sounds like fun. I had nothing planned for the rest of the night anyway.” And he’s being honest too. Amrod and Amras were right, it _had_ been too long since they’d all had some quality family time together. Besides, he knows them all too well. Neither his parents nor his brothers are going to pass up a good challenge, not with how competitive they all are.

And Celegorm isn’t mistaken. Maedhros, Maglor and Curufin (despite his earlier misgivings) agree to the game. Caranthir has yet to accept, but Celegorm suspects he’s only taking his sweet time because he secretly enjoys the cajoling from their mother.

Celegorm laughs to himself; for how tough he acts, Caranthir is still such a baby on the inside. He does give in eventually and the twins look elated as they hand out the name tags to everyone, anger soon forgotten.

“Listen up,” Amras calls, once everyone is done taping their nametags to their backs, “If you die in the game, then you rendezvous in the living room. We can figure out who the winner is that way.”

Amrod then fishes out an air horn from the bottom of the box and says, “Right now, everyone can go wherever they wish to in this house. The Manhunt starts as soon as you hear this horn go off thrice.”

He raises his arm.

“Scatter!”

Everyone runs.

Celegorm has an idea.

He’s strong enough on his own, but he knows if he encounters Maedhros or, God forbid, his father, it would be game over for him. He has thought this through, however. He has someone in mind. Someone shrewd enough to strike a deal with him, yet hopefully loyal enough to agree to be his scout.

He goes up the stairs to the storage room where he’s sure he sees Curufin run off to. He slowly turns the door handle and makes his way into the dark room. As he shuts the door, he hears the horn go off faintly. Celegorm’s heart jumps to his throat, he’s working with extremely limited time.

“Curvo? I know you’re in here,” he whispers softly, “It’s me, Tyelko. I just want to talk, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

A small hand reaches around his torso to grip the back of his shirt, edging closer to his nametag and he hears Curufin’s voice in the dark, colder than he’s ever heard it, “Turn the light on and keep your hands where I can see them, then we’ll talk.”

“Jeez Curvo, you watch too many of those low-budget mafia movies with Moryo. You’re starting to sound like a knock off Al Pacino-”

“I _said_ , turn the light on.”

Celegorm decides the most advisable thing to do is to give Curufin what he wants and make it easier for himself to earn his trust. Without turning his back to his brother, he feels up along the wall for the light switch, flipping it when he finds it.

“Curvo, this isn’t exactly the smartest thing to do. If anyone sees the light on they’ll know we’re here,” Celegorm warns, as Curufin’s face comes into view.

“Don’t worry, Tyelko, we won’t be here long. Tell me what you want and make it quick. One false move and your nametag comes off,” Curufin says, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Perhaps this isn’t the most appropriate of times to have an eye-opener, but Celegorm finally understands _why_ Curufin is named after their father. He had always thought it was just their parents running out of ideas, having had four sons already, but right now, under the dim light of the storage room, Curufin looks like the spitting image of Fëanor. Celegorm is fairly confident the little guy would grow up to be as powerful a businessman as their father is, if his negotiations are anything to go by.

Oh right, the negotiations.

“Well, what do you say we form an alliance? You could be the lookout, and I’m strong enough to defend the two of us,” Celegorm asks, hoping Curufin agrees.

But it’s Curufin, and because he likes to do everything the hard way, he thinks about it for a while before bluntly stating, “Well, it’s not enough, I could die while scouting. It’s a dangerous business out there you know? I’ll need more in compensation.”

Celegorm is starting to get antsy and it doesn’t help that his brother still has his hand on his back. “Come _on_ , Curvo.” Curufin simply stares at him indifferently. “I’ll do your laundry for a week, roommate’s honour.”

“A month.”

“Hell no. Two weeks.”

Curufin shrugs and takes his hand off of Celegorm’s back, “Works for me.” Celegorm heaves a sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe I was wary of Pityo and Telvo when I have to share a room with you. You’re the actual devil,” he mutters unhappily.

“What was that?”

Celegorm glares at Curufin darkly, “I _said_ , you’re the actual devil.”

Curufin kicks Celegorm in the shin – he’ll admit, he had it coming – before turning the light off and slipping out of the storage room with a quiet _follow me_.

As they sneak out, Curufin whispers, “Here’s the plan. You go downstairs, and be very stealthy about it. Find out who’s still up and about. I’ll scour this floor. Let’s meet up at our room in five minutes. Capiche?”

Celegorm gives him a thumbs up and heads downstairs. He can hear sporadic shouts from all over the house that he isn’t brave enough to investigate. He isn’t too certain about where he wants to go next and considers his options. The master suite is definitely out of limits – either of his parents could be there, if not both, and he isn’t too keen on meeting them. Going to his brothers’ bedrooms is a terrible idea too. The living room and the kitchen are too open and the walk-in closets are too dangerous (anyone could be hiding between the clothes).

The laundry room seems to be his safest bet. It’s big enough to give him room to move about freely, and also take someone down if he were to be attacked.

However, just as he reaches the landing of the stairs, he hears a scream coming from the direction of the laundry room. Celegorm curses his luck and runs back up a few steps. As he presses himself flat against the wall, banister digging into his back, he hears light footfalls crossing the living room, sounding awfully close to the staircase.

He doesn’t dare breathe. He knows if he’s caught, Curufin will never let him hear the end of it, and he is _not_ about to let a fourteen-year-old punk who barely reaches his shoulders intimidate him. Celegorm waits for what feels like an eternity until the footsteps fade away, heading towards the bedrooms. He checks if the coast is clear, and seeing no one in sight, makes a dash for the laundry room and enters as quietly as he can.

The lights are already on in the room and they clearly illuminate the body lying face down on the ground. Celegorm stares in horror at the sight of the nametag brutally ripped from the person’s back, carelessly thrown on the floor beside them. The longer Celegorm regards his first casualty of the night, the more the body starts to resemble a Maglor-shaped blob.

He steps closer and gently tests out, “Káno? Are you okay?”

Maglor opens his eyes and rolls over to look up at Celegorm towering over him, “Oh yeah, I’m good, don’t worry. Mom pretty much annihilated me a few minutes ago.” He points at the torn tag beside him and sighs, “She snuck up from behind me and tore my tag off.”

Celegorm kneels down by his brother. “What are you still doing on the ground though?” he asks, confusion lacing his voice.

Maglor then sits up and places a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I had to die my honourable warrior’s death, Tyelko. Either you get it or you don’t, and for your sake tonight, I hope you don’t,” he says solemnly.

Celegorm scoffs, “Nobody’s _dying_ in this game; I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that.”

Maglor shakes his finger at him, “Oh, but it is that serious, Tyelko. It’s a literal manhunt out there. One misstep and you’re done for. Look at what happened to me,” he points out sadly.

Celegorm mulls it over for a moment, “Fine, maybe you’ve got a point, but do you know anything about anybody getting out” -Maglor purses his lips at that- “ _sorry_ , if anybody’s dead yet?”

“Well, when I walked past Moryo’s bedroom, I saw him and Dad squaring up. Dad was probably going easy on him, but let’s be real, it’s _Dad_. His ‘easy’ is still hard. He probably won that match, I didn’t stick around to find out.” He paused to think for a moment, “Oh, and Mom said she’d managed to take Amras out too.”

“Damn, they’re brutal.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised.”

Celegorm stands up. He has all the information he needs, and his five minutes are nearly up. He has to make it back to where Curufin is probably waiting for him. Before leaving, he glances at his brother who’s gone back to laying on the floor and asks, “Will you not go to the living room?”

“I will. I think I’ll just lie here for a while though,” Maglor replies. “And, Tyelko?”

Celegorm hums.

“You’re a warrior too, bro.” Maglor salutes him and flops back on the floor.

Celegorm salutes him back and takes his leave; a little baffled by his brother, but hardly surprised.

Celegorm tiptoes his way up the staircase. His heart is pounding in his chest, and the sound is so deafening to his own ears that he’s half-afraid someone else will hear it too. This is starting to play out like one of those noir fiction movies Caranthir loves so much, and he doesn’t know how he feels about the fact that he’s enjoying himself increasingly as time passes by.

He sneaks past the storage room and the twins’ room and comes up to the closed door of his and Curufin’s room. As he’s about to turn the handle of the door, he hears loud voices coming from the inside.

Wait.

He stops.

_Voices?_

Celegorm is worried that it might be some kind of a trap. He contemplates walking away, but thinks of Curufin and his scrawny arms (that were in no position to defend himself from whoever was in there) and decides to intervene. Celegorm doesn’t know why his brotherly instincts are starting to kick in, but he wants to help. He blames Maglor and his ridiculous warrior talk.

He opens the door to see Curufin on the top bunk of their bunk bed, yelling and trying to fend off a pair of arms. A pair of arms that just so happen to be attached to their six-foot-five beanpole of a brother. Now, Celegorm isn’t so bad himself. At six feet, he’s among the taller ones in the family. Maedhros is just unreasonably tall – there was a reason their mother called him Maitimo. Celegorm understands everyone’s earlier sentiments now; it really does feel like a life or death situation.

 _Maybe I should just let Curvo die instead_ , he thinks, as he looks at Maedhros laughing at Curufin. This is exactly who he’s been trying to avoid the whole night, and he _could_ still leave if he wanted to…

Celegorm snaps himself out of that train of thought. He’s many things – mildly terrified of his oldest brother’s strength being one of those things – but he isn’t a traitor. He had made an alliance, and even though Curufin is an annoying rat most times, he isn’t going to throw him under the bus. Roommate’s honour, or whatever.

He psyches himself up for the fight he’s about to pick. He runs into the room and promptly tackles Maedhros, taking him down with a dull _thud_. Maedhros groans at the sudden pain of being winded.

With his brother being temporarily distracted by the feeling of having a 170-pound person dropped on him out of nowhere, Celegorm takes the chance to shout, “Curvo, get out. _Get out_ , and try not to get caught. I’ll deal with Nelyo.”

Curufin nods mutely before clambering down the ladder of the bunk bed and booking it out of there.

Maedhros, who has found his bearings by now, grunts with the effort of trying to flip Celegorm onto his back.

“Couldn’t you have at least…given a guy…a warning, Tyelko?”

“Yeah, and give you the chance to rip the nametag off my back?” Celegorm snorts. “Fat chance.”

They wrestle each other for a while and Celegorm’s starting to work up a sweat. But he’s made some progress; his right hand is shoved between Maedhros’ back and the ground. He’s so close, he can almost feel the paper, when he makes the terrible mistake of placing his other hand on the ground on the same side as his right. This gives Maedhros the chance to slip out from under him to his left.

Maedhros wastes absolutely no time shoving Celegorm face-first to the floor. Celegorm cranes his neck to look back at his brother. He’s a goner, and he knows it. “Nelyo, come on, you don’t have to do this,” he tries to reason.

Maedhros laughs icily, “Don’t have to what? Finish you off right now? _Fat chance_ ,” he mimics Celegorm’s words from a few moments ago.

There’s a tense silence in the air, punctuated by their heavy breathing, before Maedhros whispers remorsefully, “I’m sorry it had to end like this, Tyelko.”

He grabs Celegorm’s nametag and tears it off with a loud rip.

Celegorm’s eyes flutter shut. He feels light, like he’s floating on a cloud. Is this what Maglor meant about an honourable warrior’s death? Celegorm had held up his part of the alliance and he had died trying. He thinks that was pretty warrior-like of him. He allows the darkness to overtake him-

A loud scream rudely interrupts his moment of Nirvana.

Celegorm is positive the scream didn’t come from him, he still has a little self-awareness left. He looks over his shoulder to find the source and, to his surprise, sees Curufin letting out another cry of joy – so it had come from _him_ – as Maedhros looks down at him in disbelief.

A little confused as to what’s happening in front of him, Celegorm searches their faces for an answer.

Then he sees it.

There is a nametag clutched tightly in Curufin’s hand. Celegorm knows it isn’t his one – his tag is still in Maedhros’ hand.

Curufin grins wickedly. “Surprise.”

Maedhros, still in shock, puts his hands up in surrender. “Brother turning against brother, is there no trust left in our household?” he says mournfully and drops to the ground beside Celegorm.

Celegorm smiles weakly as Curufin runs to his side. “You came back for me. Why?” he breathes out.

“To be honest, I _was_ actually going to run away, but I knew you wouldn’t really win in a fight with Nelyo. If you are going to do my laundry for the next two weeks, I thought I’d at least make it worth it for you,” Curufin replies, “I’m sorry I was too late though.” He looks rather regretful.

Celegorm’s consciousness is slowly fading so he motions his brother closer. “I’m just glad you showed up, Curvo. It’s nice knowing you had my back against the enemy.”

“Dude, I’m right here, can you not trash-talk me? I’m literally dying too,” Maedhros pipes up from behind them, sounding wronged.

Curufin sends him an apologetic glance before turning his attention back to Celegorm. He presses his hand to his cheek, “Do you have any last words, Tyelko?”

“Crush everybody else” -Curufin nods earnestly at this- “and I never thought I’d say this, but I…”

“But you what?”

“I love you, Curvo,” Celegorm croaks out.

Curufin only stares at him unblinkingly for a long time before gagging at the display of emotion. “That was disgusting,” he says, horrified.

“Say it back, loser!”

Curufin sighs heavily, “I love you too, I guess.” He trails off, suddenly finding the ground extremely interesting.

“You’re hopeless,” Celegorm smiles fondly, “Go now, before someone catches you.”

Taking one last look at his fallen brothers, Curufin darts out of the room and disappears out of sight. Celegorm feels at peace. He closes his eyes and gives up the fight.

A minute later, Celegorm gets kicked in the side.

“We should probably go downstairs, I don’t want to miss the action,” Maedhros says, standing over him, “and I’ve let you remain dead for long enough.”

With a groan, Celegorm sits up. Maedhros offers him a hand and he takes it, dusting his clothes off. “Do you think we should hold a family meeting to ban Moryo’s edgy indie movies? I think the flair for the dramatics is starting to catch on to the rest of us,” he says thoughtfully to his brother.

Maedhros chuckles and lightly brushes off his concerns, “Those films Moryo watches _are_ terrible, but I think being dramatic just runs in the family.”

They leave the room and Maedhros slings an arm across his shoulders. The two of them head towards the living room in silent contentment and Celegorm can faintly hear a ruckus being raised in that general vicinity.

As they walk down the stairs, Maedhros asks him curiously, “Hey, how come you never tell me you love me?”

Celegorm smirks, “Avenge me next time and I’ll consider it.”

As he tries to avoid a punch aimed at his arm, he offhandedly thinks about the bruises he’s definitely going to wake up with the next morning. _It’ll be worth it_ , he thinks.

The shouts and laughter coming from the living room grow louder as the two of them reach the bottom of the staircase. When they enter, Celegorm is greeted with the sight of his father and Curufin circling each other around the coffee table while the rest of his family sits around and eggs them on.

He and Maedhros rush to grab seats on the couches, and Celegorm leans over to Amrod sitting beside him and asks him to fill him in.

“Dad showed up to the living room and he was the only one with his nametag on. So when you, Nelyo, and Curvo didn’t show up for a long time either, we automatically assumed he was the winner. Then Curvo ran in, declaring he was still alive and the two have been battling it out since then.” Amrod laughs gleefully and claps like the excitable child he is.

Caranthir speaks up from where he’s seated on the floor, sandwiched between Amrod’s legs, “Personally, my bet’s on Dad. He’s unbelievably fast, and I’m saying this as his unfortunate victim.”

Celegorm, wholly amused, straightens up and watches the banter being exchanged in front of him.

“-makes perfect sense to hand over the name that _I_ gave you!” Fëanor remarks with a playful glint in his eyes.

“You’re only saying that because you know you’re too slow to get it from me yourself, Dad,” Curufin shoots back.

There is a collective _ooh_ from everybody as they look back and forth between Fëanor and Curufin like it’s the most riveting game of table tennis they’ve ever watched.

Fëanor cracks his knuckles and says, “You asked for it, kiddo.” Curufin’s eyes widen as Fëanor makes a grab at him, and he runs to duck behind a couch. The two of them continue their little game of push and pull around the couch for a few more minutes until Curufin decides he’s had enough and goes on the offensive.

He lunges at his father, and Fëanor, upon realising that a little ball of energy was barrelling towards him, makes a break for it. Curufin chases Fëanor around the space of the living room, both of them trying their best to not break something on accident.

Celegorm takes it all in. The room is filled with his father’s booming laughter, Curufin’s delighted shrieks and everyone else’s cheering. And even though his mother keeps reminding them to be careful, she’s hardly angry.

In the midst of all the madness, he notices his father slowing down gradually, and he realises that he’s letting Curufin win. Curufin seems to notice too, and with one last burst of energy, he reaches out and tears Fëanor’s tag off of his back. Celegorm _ooh_ s along with the rest of his family at the turn of events.

“I won! I did it!” Curufin exclaims. “Look,” he waves the tag around, “I’ve got Dad’s nametag.”

Fëanor, feigning hurt, says, “I’ve been beaten by my own son. Where’s your filial piety, Curvo?” He grumbles for a moment before he gives up the act and reaches out to ruffle Curufin’s hair affectionately, the latter basking in his father’s attention. They move to sit down, completely spent after the night’s events.

Amras then lights up, looking like he’s remembered something important, and whispers in Amrod’s ear.

“Curvo!” he calls.

Curufin looks up in time to see his younger brothers blowing him kisses. “Ew,” he bats the air vigorously, “why would you do that?”

Amras looks offended, “That was supposed to be the winner’s prize remember? That was our love for you.”

“No thanks, I’ll still pass,” Curufin says disinterestedly. He turns to Celegorm and continues, “Besides, I’ve already received something better.”

Celegorm coos at him, “Is it the unbreakable bond of our brotherhood?”

“Nope, it’s you doing my laundry,” Curufin smirks. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

Celegorm shoots him a death stare as his other brothers start lobbing multiple requests at him to do their laundry as well. Ally or not, Curufin is still insufferable, and Celegorm supposes he could live with it. For now.

He’s definitely going to get him back.

In order to avoid the complaints still being thrown his way, Celegorm changes the topic, “So Mom, how did you get out anyway?” Maglor perks up at the question, “Yeah I want to know too, especially after you’d ambushed me so ruthlessly.”

Nerdanel starts, “Telvo-“

Amrod, having successfully taken the bait, interrupts. “Well, I tore Mom’s tag off. I had to take revenge for my fallen twin, you see,” he declares proudly and gives Amras a high-five.

Nerdanel raises an eyebrow and says, “It _is_ true, but he’s left out one important detail.”

“Which is?” Celegorm asks.

“I ripped out his nametag at the same time. We essentially killed each other.”

“That’s really cool and all,” Maedhros laughs, “but you should have seen Tyelko jumping me. The kid packs quite a punch.”

“Please, have you ever had Moryo threatening you?” Fëanor jokes, “He made me nervous for a bit.”

Caranthir makes a face, “But you still killed me, Dad.”

The room devolves into a flurry of chatter as everyone talks over each other, each one excited to prove their own stories better than the others’. They argue and they tease and they cause a din that would have driven a sane person crazy.

But even though Celegorm thinks any kind of silence in the household is _definitely_ a warning sign, he finds that he doesn’t mind the noise at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: The boys (and Fëanor) want to have a Nerf war for the next Family Bonding Time™️, but Nerdanel shuts that idea down quick. They'd definitely break something.
> 
> (P.S. Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts. Have a great day and stay safe!)


End file.
